


Don't Fight It

by Joana789



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Insight, Kissing, M/M, POV Magnus Bane, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-05-10
Packaged: 2018-06-07 16:04:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6812497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joana789/pseuds/Joana789
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alexander Lightwood steps into the field of vision and Magnus Bane stares.</p><p>or</p><p>An insight into Magnus's mind during some of the events of season 1.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Fight It

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't know if I should post it and then decided that, hey, nobody'll sue me if I do, so, well.
> 
> I wanted to dig a little deeper into Magnus's character and play around with his POV so this fic only expands a little on what actually happened.

 

 

The truth is, sometimes Magnus Bane feels a little old.

It’s quite understandable as he is, after all, hundreds of years old, but the feeling just hits him one day, just like that.

It is before everything, although he is not aware of that at the time – is not aware the world as he knows it, with all of its many, many faces, is about to start crumbling, right underneath his feet and all around him.

At the time, the sensation strikes him one day, but it feels more like a wave than a punch, gradual in its power, and Magnus stares at the palm of his right hand, furrows his brows ever so slightly and wonders if someone immortal really should feel as if they’ve been around for too long already.

Well – Magnus does.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Then, Clary Fairchild happens, appears out of nowhere, older and prettier and more stubborn than Magnus remembers her to be. She is, indeed, talented, he thinks, because before he even manages to notice, she takes his hand and pulls him right into the middle of this madness he never intended to become a regular part of.

Then again, though, who can blame him, how easily he gives in, when Clary Fairchild brings Alexander Lightwood with her?

The first time Magnus sees him, it’s both dark and blindingly bright around, the contrasts he loves, all technicolour lights and black corners, but when Alexander appears, the surroundings seem to fade away for a split second. Magnus doesn’t pay attention to one particular feature of his – to the startling swiftness of his movements, messy hair, his tall frame, the way he towers over the crowd – or perhaps it’s that he pays attention to all of them at once because the most prominent characteristic Magnus sees is Alexander himself, as a whole.

Maybe he should’ve noticed something peculiar about that, he’ll think later, but well, he doesn’t at the time.

Alexander Lightwood steps into the field of vision and Magnus Bane stares.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

He is an interesting man, full of surprises even though there are not many things left in this world able to puzzle Magnus, not really.

Alexander Lightwood seems to be, however, one of them. He’s fast and confident, observant and alert and yet mysterious in a way Magnus struggles to understand because while it is different from what he usually associates with the word, it also has a strangely captivating feeling to it.

The most mysterious thing about Alexander is the way he makes Magnus’s skin tingle strangely with merely a smile when he introduces himself. The grin on his face is bright and honest and unguarded and makes Magnus smile a little, too, in response.

For a second, he feels like a teenager again, amazed and intrigued and easy, feels a familiar warmth blooming behind his sternum, even though he barely remembers what it even felt like, to be so young.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

(Maybe he should be a little scared, it occurs to him sometime later, because he thought he had enough of this already, after Camille. He doesn’t need _love_ to function, or infatuation or fascination, whatever it is that he’s starting to feel – quite the contrary, really, because Magnus has learned his lesson, and the hard way at that.

Broken heart is not a simple thing to heal. He would know.

What he tells Alec is true, though – as weird as it is, and given how little time they’ve actually known each other, the shadowhunter really has unlocked something in him. There’s no use denying that.

So Magnus snaps his fingers, igniting a spark of magic, and watches Alexander’s eyes light up in wonder and smiles because he doesn’t think he’s ever seen anyone else looking at those little tricks of his like that, not really.)

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Magnus tries to get closer because this is what he _does_ , simply, and for a certain amount of time, Alexander lets him. They talk and Magnus flirts, plays, laughs and it is a game, but it’s also so much more than that at the same time. He’s fairly good at that, if he can say so himself – he’s had years and years of practice, after all – at playing, but it is different with Alexander and he would be lying if he said it wasn’t something new, even for him, _especially_ for him.

And then, it breaks.

Just like that. Perhaps it is Magnus who nudges too hard, crosses a line of some sorts, because Alexander snaps, takes a step back, says, “No,” talks about family and tradition, and it is a “No, Magnus, I don’t need your help,” but also, if only partially, “No, Magnus, don’t come any closer.”

And Magnus knows what the real issue is, he’s seen enough signs already, first the looks Alec gave this Wayland boy when he thought no one was watching, then how he acted after their little _demon issue_ , now how his gaze sometimes follows Magnus, although Magnus himself is not complaining, and he understands, he really does. He can wait for Alexander, give him some more space and then try again. Magnus can wait or back off for the time being or even become his dirty little secret – if the shadowhunting society really is that traditional then fine, so be it. As long as it takes, he’ll be there – he is patient, after all, very much so.

All Alec has to do is ask.

He doesn’t.

He chooses another solution instead, one more convenient for him, and it’s as if someone hit him, Magnus finds, really, listening to this truly exhilarating news. Magnus thought he’d mastered the art of controlling his emotions literal ages ago, but he is apparently wrong, like he usually is when it comes to anything related to Alexander, only this time not in a good way.

So he lowers his head, wanting to say many, many things, but also being aware that if he says anything wrong now, it’ll destroy whatever it is that they have left completely, and that’s why he bites his tongue.

In the end, he chooses a simple line, plain and neutral, one he hates – “Marriage is a wonderful institution,” – and it’s ridiculous, _ridiculous_.

To his own ears, he sounds very hurt but doubts Alec catches any of it, and perhaps he’s not that bad at concealing his emotions after all, because when he forces a smile and says, “Goodbye, Alexander,” the name rolls off his tongue easily enough.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

And so the world crumbles, first little by little, then all at once.

Maybe it’s a little too dramatic but then again, it’s not like Magnus cares.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

He gets home and pours himself a drink. It burns in his throat a little, but that’s fine, so he pours himself another and it burns and burns again.

It’s a little funny, Magnus thinks absently, because well, isn’t he supposed to be too old for this already? For falling in love that easily? Hasn’t he learned his lesson?

He thought he had.

It is all different this time, though, whether he likes it or not, because it’s not only about him, not anymore, for the first time in over a hundred years. Living a lie is a difficult thing and nobody, nobody deserves to wake up one day and find that they’re stuck in the middle of something that’s not even real, and Magnus would know because he’s been there and seen it all.

Alexander Lightwood doesn’t deserve any of it.

Later, Magnus stares at his own flashy reflection in the bathroom mirror, at his heavy make-up and glitter and styled hair, at silky, colourful clothes and shiny, expensive jewellery and he wonders when it happened exactly – wonders when this shield of his, so firm, stopped working, when Alexander wormed his way under it and into Magnus’s mind without him even noticing.

And then he corrects himself, because it’s not Alexander anymore but Alec, Alec, _Alec_.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Then, there’s Izzy’s trial and Magnus says he wants Alec’s bow as a payment after the shadowhunter brushes his former little innuendo off. Alec, because he is nothing if not righteous, agrees.

Magnus fights with all he has because it’s so ridiculous, how they all repeat their noble maxim – _the law is the law_ – as if it was the only thing worth following, as if they had no hearts and feelings, as if what Izzy did was wrong when it is everything but.

Magnus can feel Alec’s gaze on his back for half of the trial.

He learns that Lydia Branwell is as beautiful as she is impressive, in this restrained, collected way he’s already so familiar with and he could hate her easily, Magnus thinks, if only because she’s so similar to Alec everywhere he is not.

But he doesn’t, no, because Lydia’s also immensely brave and strong, and she proves it well. When she looks at him, there’s no contempt in her eyes like Magnus thought there would be – she is, after all, from the Clave and he is, nevertheless, a Downworlder – and he smiles because if that’s not admirable, he doesn’t know what is.

They don’t win exactly, but Izzy’s safe in the end, and when Alec hands his bow and quiver over to him, just as promised, Magnus tries again, because he might not be a shadowhunter but he is a _fighter_.

Alec doesn’t listen, refuses to, still believing that what he’s planning to do is right, that sense of duty is more important than what’s in his heart, even though that’s just utter _nonsense_.

Magnus gives him his bow and quiver back because he doesn’t want them anymore, never truly wanted them, and leaves.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

He tries again, but it is the last time, he promises himself, and if that doesn’t work, he’ll stop.

It doesn’t work.

And this time he is _sure_ he nudges too hard but doesn’t know any different way to convey what he feels anymore. Alec doesn’t want to drink and moves away when Magnus steps closer and stutters, only to finally break, even though Magnus practically confesses to him, so stupidly in love.

“Back off,” Alec says and Magnus’s throat tightens, making it harder to swallow and harder to breathe.

But of course Alec chooses his honour and family and career and his _life_.

Magnus looks at him and thinks that maybe he was wrong when he saw him for the first time, maybe he’s been using the wrong words to describe him all along. Perhaps Alec is not fast but fleeting; not mysterious but withdrawn, not alert but ready to slip out of reach any second.

Magnus tells him he will not ask again and does not plan to because really – enough is enough.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

When Izzy appears on his doorstep, he does not foresee a wedding invitation.

“You cannot genuinely expect me to come,” Magnus huffs, looking at her from over the rim of the glass in his hand. Izzy says nothing for a moment, but she doesn’t really need to because it’s all in her eyes anyway.

“I thought it would be appropriate to invite you,” she speaks eventually, and Magnus forces a sneer.

“I’d hate to ruin Alexander’s big day,” he says. “That would be so ill-mannered of me.”

Izzy doesn’t seem to be too impressed with his sarcasm, though, because she only comes closer, takes his hand in hers, says, “Magnus, I really don’t like this whole idea, either.”

Magnus doesn’t know how to answer that.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

He smiles at Lydia briefly when they meet at the Institute, but Alec he barely manages to as much as look at.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

And well, in the end he does ruin the wedding, anyway.

Lydia is the most dazzling bride he’s seen in his life, yet he barely notices her at all. When Magnus bursts into the room, all eyes are on him in a second, but his are only on Alec, and he only notices Maryse approaching when she’s close enough to touch.

This is not about her, though, but about her son, and Magnus, so he brushes her aside, voice confident even though he does not feel confident at all.

Alexander looks at him with something resembling wonder, nearly, and Magnus holds his gaze over the space of the room between them. There won’t be any more attempts, he wants to say but doesn’t because he knows Alec realises it, too – that there are no more chances, no more tries, that it’s the last one and Alec has to make a choice since Magnus made his weeks, months ago and it was never much of a mystery for neither of them.

So Magnus waits.

He waits when Lydia says something to Alec, her expression gentle, and when he answers, words too quiet for Magnus to hear over the sound of his own heartbeat. He waits and watches as Lydia puts her hand on Alec’s cheek, watches Alec turn to the crowd, his gaze back on Magnus; this time, there’s a spark of something in it, hard as steel and just a bit less cold – determination, Magnus defines, and it sends a shiver down his spine because it means Alec has already made a decision.

And then one moment Alec’s standing still and the next one he’s going.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t falter and Magnus swallows nervously, body frozen and mind racing. He tries to think of anything Alec could say to him, wonders if he’ll ask him to leave and prays for him not to, looks for a sign, an indication, a clue, anything, and finds nothing at all. Alec doesn’t stop at the sound of his mother’s voice and his eyes never leave Magnus’s, as if he was afraid Magnus will disappear on him again, and when he’s close enough to touch, Magnus braces himself for the words, looks up at him because Alec is so tall and there’s still no answer anywhere on his face and –

Alec pulls him in, clutching at his lapels, and kisses him full on the mouth.

And Magnus thinks, _Oh_ , because he did not expect that, and then, next second, he doesn’t think at all. The kiss pushes all the air out of his lungs and all the thoughts out of his head, just like that, and Alec’s lips are warm on his, soft but determined. He grips Alec’s waist, thinks, _This is his answer_ , and it is so, so much better than anything Magnus expected Alec to say to him.

When they part, Magnus feels light and warm all over, almost giggly; a smile surfaces on his face and he doesn’t hide it at all.

Suddenly, he feels very, very young.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

(Much later, when he thinks about it, it occurs to him that no – _young_ is not the best word.

A better one would be _alive_.)

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr!](http://angstandcats.tumblr.com)


End file.
